


Poprocks & Coke

by youjik33



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youjik33/pseuds/youjik33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his company on the verge of certain collapse, the last thing Richard wants is to go to a party where he's expected to put on a brave face in a room full of strangers. At least he's not alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poprocks & Coke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lies_d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lies_d/gifts).



> Title shamelessly stolen from Green Day.
> 
> Happy Halloween!

"That's not how you spell 'wizard'," Erlich said, scrutinizing Richard's costume as they stood in the foyer.

"No, I know." Richard fingered the brim of his hat, smoothed down his rust-colored robe. The silver lamé stars he'd ironed on years ago were starting to fray a little, which he actually thought improved the costume's accuracy. "It's intentional, it's a reference to-"

"What the hell is _that_?" Erlich cut off his explanation.

"Meow?" Dinesh said with a shrug.

"A black sweater and a two-dollar pair of cat ears do not make a costume," Erlich grumbled. "Jesus Christ, put some fucking effort into this party, would you?"

"Excuse you, this is a five-dollar pair of cat ears," Dinesh said. "Anyway, women wear this kind of costume all the time and nobody complains."

"No, women wear _sexy_ cat costumes. Put on a corset and some vinyl boots and do a whole lot of waxing, maybe you could pull it off, but that? That's just lazy. I almost wish we'd gone with Jared's stupid idea."

Jared had suggested that Richard go as the Pied Piper of Hamelin and the rest of them dress as rats. He meant well, and Richard might have even backed him up if he wasn't currently feeling so self-conscious about his position as their leader. He already didn't particularly want to go to this Raviga party, but going while conspicuously presenting himself as the CEO of a company that was in critical danger of complete collapse was just not going to happen. Especially in a costume that involved wearing tights.

"Where is Jared, anyway?" Richard asked.

"He texted me to say he's gonna drive seperately. I guess his costume's taking longer than he thought."

"At least I'm punctual," Dinesh said. "And I'm actually making an appearance, instead of skipping out to go to an orgy like Gilfoyle."

"I don't think they actually have orgies," Richard said. "...do they?" Either way, Gilfoyle was getting a pass on the party due to having some big important Satanist event, which nobody had questioned him very deeply about.

Richard wished he was going anywhere else as he sat in the car with the pointed hat in his lap, running his fingers over its embroidered double Z's. Big parties made him uncomfortable at the best of times, and he felt like they'd only been invited to this one out of politeness, and possibly Monica pulling some strings; after the Intersite fiasco and with the Hooli lawsuit still dangling over their heads, Pied Piper seemed on the verge of certain ruin, and there was no way everyone at Raviga wasn't going to be aware of that. But Erlich insisted they go, put on a brave face, hold their heads high, ignore the fact that the coders were jumping ship one by one. (Carla was the only one who hadn't officially quit yet, but he was pretty sure he'd caught her working on her resume earlier that day. He didn't exactly blame her.)

He closed his eyes and covered his mouth with his hand, feeling the familiar taste of bile rising in the back of his throat. If only he could borrow some of Erlich's confidence. The other man seemed completely unconcerned with their reputation, tapping his hand on the steering wheel along with the radio. Richard wasn't entirely sure what Erlich's costume was supposed to be. With his green button-down shirt, brown pants tucked into boots, a brown fedora, a red handkerchief tied around his neck, he would have looked at home fighting Nazis next to Indiana Jones.

Monica had assured them that this was going to be a small, low-key party. "Only a couple of hundred people," she'd said; apparently they had different definitions of "small". But it was just in the Raviga offices, in a couple of conference rooms decorated with spiderwebs and flickering orange lights, and a DJ instead of Flo Rida. ("How much Danny Elfman do you think we're going to hear tonight?" Dinesh asked as they walked in to the strains of "Dead Man's Party".) Maybe, Richard thought, he could just hover around the buffet tables eating crackers for a couple of hours, and it wouldn't be all that bad.

Erlich vanished almost the instant they walked through the door – "Making the rounds," he said. Richard decided to make a beeline for the bar, Dinesh trailing behind him, but they ran into Monica and Laurie before they could get there. "Richard! I'm so glad you made it!" Monica's eyes flickered up to his hat, and her radiant smile faltered momentarily. She looked amazing, in a green silky dress and matching eyeshadow, her hair piled atop her head and a pair of fairy wings on her back. He almost didn't notice Laurie next to her in a black turtleneck and witch hat.

"Mr. Hendricks," Laurie said, gaze fixed just above his head. "You've taken some liberties with the spelling there, I see."

"Uh, yeah, it's a reference-"

"And Mr.... Chugtai, is it? Such a refreshingly simple costume."

"Uh... thank you?" Dinesh shot Richard a confused look, which Richard returned with a shrug. "I just thought, you know, you don't have to spend a lot of money or wear uncomfortable clothes to get into the spirit of the holiday, right?"

"Quite right. Please feel free to help yourself to refreshments. Excuse me."

"Did I just impress her?" Dinesh asked. "Of course Erlich missed it, after all that shit he gave me."

"I think you did," Monica said. "Although to be honest, I haven't entirely learned how to read her yet. ...are you okay, Richard?"

"What? Yes? I'm fine. Is something wrong? Do I not seem fine?"

"You just seem kind of tired." She stepped closer, lowering her voice, and Richard got a whiff of sweet floral perfume. Her eyeshadow had glitter in it. "I know you're probably upset about the Intersite... thing... but try not to dwell on it. I know you guys will be okay."

"That's easy for her to say," Richard said with a sigh, grabbing a handful of grapes off of a platter as Monica walked away. "I actually wasn't thinking about it until she said that, either."

Dinesh was ignoring him, staring across the room with a familiar starstruck gaze that meant he'd just seen a pretty girl. "Richard, there's a sexy mouse over there," he whispered.

Richard turned, half expecting to see Amanda Seyfried. A short curvy dark-haired woman in a corset and mouse ears was standing on the opposite end of the table, sipping a glass of red wine and looking vaguely bored.

"So are you going to go talk to her?" Richard asked.

"Should I? What should I say? Do you think it's a good idea? I mean, this is basically a once in a lifetime opportunity, right?"

"I don't know, just go say hi," Richard said, and then jumped, because his phone had just vibrated in his pocket.

"Are you having a seizure or something?" Dinesh asked.

"No, I just – I'll be right back."

He couldn't get under his robe discreetly, so he ducked into the nearest bathroom, hiked the robe up around his arms, and fished the phone out of the pocket of his jeans. It was a text from Bighead.

 

_Man I wish I could've come to your party, it's weird spending halloween without you_

 

_but I have this aids charity thing_

 

_or is it a cancer charity thing_

 

_shit I better find out in case somebody wants me to make a speech or something_

 

_oh hey check out the costume i rented_

 

Richard leaned against the wall of the stall, smiling at the selfie Bighead had sent. He was wearing a red coat and a black hat with a huge feather in it, and Richard couldn't help but wonder how much cheese dip he was going to get on the lacey cuffs of his pirate blouse. 

 

_That's awesome. I had my mom mail me my costume from last year_ , he texted back.  _But it's not really the same without you._

 

Moments crawled by with no response. Richard wondered if Bighead had been called on to give a speech after all, or if he'd just been distracted by something else. It really was weird not having him here. This was the first Halloween they'd spent apart in fifteen years.

Fifteen? That couldn't possibly be right. But, no, they'd been eleven the first time they'd gone trick or treating together. The weight of those years suddenly hit him, and Richard sagged against the wall of the stall, his hat tipping forward to cover his eyes. It hurt, a jagged heaviness in the pit of his stomach, accompanied by a firm, insistent voice in his head, saying _You can't do this, it's too hard, why did you ever think you could?_

Monica was right. He was tired. 

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and just stood there for a minute. It was quiet in the bathroom, but he didn't think he could get away with just staying in there for a few hours. He was halfway through washing his hands before he remembered that he hadn't actually used the toilet.

The bathroom door opened. Richard, busy drying his hands, ignored it, until the guy let out a low, drawn-out groan.

Richard glanced in his direction, did a double-take, and let out a high undignified squawk, jumping backwards and hitting his back against the paper towel dispenser.

"Oh no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to actually scare you, are you all right?"

"Yeah, no, I'm fine, Jared," Richard said, because of course it was Jared. But it was obvious why his costume had taken him so long – he'd gone all out on the zombie makeup. Richard had a hard time looking directly at him, actually; his eyes were hollow and his skin a deathly gray-green and he had long, bloody grooves in his throat, as though something had torn or bitten it out. "That's, um, wow. Did you do all that makeup yourself?"

"Well, I watched some online tutorials," Jared said. His eyes lit up. "Oh, you're Rincewind! That's wonderful!"

"Yeah," Richard said with a rush of relief. "You're the first person who's actually recognized it."

"I don't have much time for pleasure reading nowadays," Jared said. "But I used to like Discworld. All the puns."

"Yeah," Richard said with a smile. "This is actually an old costume I made for a party my tabletop gaming club threw back when I was in college. Bighead was Twoflower. It was pretty great." He touched the outline of his phone in his pocket; it still hadn't buzzed. "I think I'm going to go have a drink."

"I'll be right behind you," Jared said. "First I have to..." He trailed off with a frown, then suddenly doubled over. Suddenly a squishy red stream of guts burst from the front of his shirt, landing in a pile on the bathroom carpet.

"HOLY FUCK!" Richard crashed into the paper towels again.

Jared looked up sheepishly. "It's just a pair of tights stuffed with poly-fill and some fake blood," he explained. "I didn't expect the effect to be so convincing."

Richard's heart was hammering in his throat. But it felt strangely refreshing – a simple jump scare quickening his pulse, a change from the stomach-churning anxiety he'd gotten so used to. He laughed, breathless, and realized he was actually relaxed for the first time in months.

"Please tell me you haven't done that to Erlich yet," he said. "I have to see the look on his face."

Erlich swore and spilled his drink, and then forgave Jared when he recognized his costume. (Pitfall Harry, apparently. The original Pitfall games were slightly before Richard's time.) Dinesh laughed so hard he forgot about how heartbroken he'd been to find that the sexy mouse already had cheese-costume-wearing boyfriend. Richard drank three hard ciders, smiled more than he had since TechCrunch Disrupt, and went to bed that night feeling sleepy and comfortable instead of strung out and exhausted.

 

\-----

 

"Hey!" the fairy said.

It hovered just above Richard's head, glowing green and white, and he could see that it had Monica's face.

"Hey!" it said again. He swatted at it with his flute but it seemed unfazed. "Listen!"

"Listen to what?" he asked before realizing there was music playing, barely audible. It might have been coming from the flute; it was hard to say. In the mist surrounding Richard he thought he saw people moving, Dinesh, Erlich, Gilfoyle, Jared, Bighead – no, he couldn't see Bighead any more.

When he moved they followed him. "Stop it," he said. Everything was hazy. The fairy was gone. Jared was still there, though, standing silently behind Richard, who'd gotten his arm tangled in his patchwork cape. "Go away," Richard said as he struggled. But Jared didn't move, and as Richard watched his eyes darkened, sank into his skull, and disappeared, and suddenly his whole chest burst open, spewing blood and entrails at Richard's feet--

 

\--and Richard jerked awake, gasping and drenched in sweat.

"Damn it," he sighed, sinking back onto his pillow. His sheets and shirt were both soaked. He flung the blanket aside and climbed down to change. He felt a little dizzy, and stood there in the dark for a minute, angry at himself for apparently being unable to just relax for one single night. He changed into a clean shirt, and then, on a whim, pulled on his jeans.

Richard almost tripped over Gilfoyle, who was snoring softly on the floor in the foyer. "I really, really hope you didn't drive yourself home," Richard murmured. He moved as slowly and quietly as he could but the front door still made a wince-inducing creak as he pulled it open.

A cool breeze sent leaves rattling across the pavement and made goosebumps break out on Richard's bare arms. Everything else was completely still and silent, giving Richard an odd feeling, like none of it was real, like he was still dreaming.

He rapped on the door of Noah's guest house three times and then waited, wondering for the first time exactly what he thought he was doing. He never doubted that Jared would answer the door. He was in his pajamas, his hair sleep-tousled, and as soon as he saw Richard he ushered him inside, asking what was wrong and offering to make tea.

"No, no, thanks, I'm fine," Richard stammered. "I just... I wanted to see you." He hadn't meant to say that; he lowered his eyes, cheeks getting warm. "I had a nightmare," he said softly. "It's kind of dumb. I shouldn't have woken you up."

"No, it's no trouble," Jared insisted. "I'm happy to... help..."

He trailed off, because Richard, still feeling slightly dazed, had put his palm flat against Jared's stomach, without even fully realizing he had done it. "Oh," he said. "Uh. I guess, the thing with the guts. It kind of got to me."

"Sorry," Jared said. He didn't move.

"Don't, you're, why are you apologizing? I'm the one who's fucking up." He drew a shaky breath. "We're fucked. This whole company is completely fucked, and it's my fault. Bighead's lucky he got out. I don't know how you guys keep going, acting like there's any hope at all."

"Because there is." Jared's voice was soft and even. "Intersite wasn't your fault. The lawsuit isn't your fault. We might not have any money, but it's not over yet, Richard. There's always hope. And Nelson -- Bighead -- he texted you tonight, didn't he? He's not really gone either." He was quiet a moment. "I would have been Twoflower with you, if you'd asked. Maybe next year..." 

"You think there's going to be a next year?" Richard asked. His hand was still resting on Jared's stomach and he was still staring at it, talking to the floor. "You should get out while you can."

"Is that what you want?"

"No." He hated the desperation in his own voice. "Jesus, what am I doing?" He stepped back, pulled his hand away, tried to look Jared in the eye but couldn't, quite. "Sorry, I don't know why I-- maybe I'm a little touch-starved or something. And after you worked so hard making that sexual harassment policy." He laughed, nervously, trying to turn it into a joke, but Jared wasn't laughing.

"It's, ah, it's not really harassment, technically, unless it's unwanted." Jared's eyes widened a little as soon as he'd said it, like he was surprised at his own honesty.

Richard wasn't surprised. Not really. Maybe he should have been. Maybe he really was still dreaming, as he slid both hands up under Jared's t-shirt. He was so skinny – Richard's fingertips brushed the curves of his ribs, and Jared's breath hitched.

"Richard," he said. "You shouldn't – you're drunk, you're going to regret it later--"

"What? I'm not drunk. I barely had anything at the party. I just..." He frowned, and leaned forward. Hunched over like this, his forehead rested against Jared's breastbone. He could feel the other man's heart beating. "I just need to touch you."

Jared's arms came up around his shoulders, his fingers threading through the sweaty hair sticking to the back of Richard's neck. "Is that all right?"

"Mm-hm," Richard said.

It was ridiculous. Absurd, really. He hadn't been held like this since he was a child. Maybe that was why it was so comforting.

"You need sleep," Jared said. "When's the last time you had a full night's sleep?"

"I don't remember. No, wait. Right after we got back from TechCrunch, I slept for like twelve hours."

"Is the couch all right? The ferret smell is on the strong side out here, but..."

"No. No, that's fine." He let Jared guide him to the couch, bring him a pillow. He felt heavy and slow and the instant he lay down he couldn't keep his eyes open.

"I'm not going anywhere," he heard Jared say. And then, so softly Richard thought he might have been imagining it, he felt the brush of lips against his forehead.

 

\-----

The next thing he knew he was waking up, morning sun streaming through the window, the smell of fresh coffee filling the room. He'd slept, dreamless and uninterrupted, for a full six hours. Jared had left a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the coffee table. "I wasn't drunk," Richard sighed to himself. Maybe it was better, for now, to let Jared think he was, until Richard had a chance to figure out his own feelings, the tangle of guilt and gratitude he was caught up in. He drank the water and lay back. He still didn't know what he was doing, or how long Pied Piper was going to survive. But he wasn't in this alone. That was the only thing he was certain of, but maybe it would be enough.

 

 


End file.
